


Mirror

by Frostwells



Category: Doctor Who (2005), Victoria (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Crossover, F/M, Friendship, Older Man/Younger Woman, Romance, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-14
Updated: 2017-03-17
Packaged: 2018-08-15 01:05:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,864
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8036263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Frostwells/pseuds/Frostwells
Summary: It wasn’t often that Lord Melbourne found himself in such predicament, questioning himself – questioning his own mentality. He was always so certain of himself; he had to be if he were to remain Prime Minister. But here he was, doubting the identity of the intruder, even as foolishly mistaking her for his queen. After all, it wasn’t often that he stumbled upon the exact twin of Queen Victoria.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah, I went there. I ship it. Lord M deserves everything and so does Clara Oswald. Played around with this concept in my head for awhile and the Vicbourne gc added fuel to the flame (bless them). 
> 
> I've never really played around with crossovers before, so constructive criticism is much appreciated. 
> 
> DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN VICTORIA OR DOCTOR WHO.  
> CLAIMER: I DO OWN ALL MY GRAMMATICAL MISTAKES.

“You are indeed not the Queen of England? Surely, this is just a cruel jest!”

It wasn’t often that Lord Melbourne found himself in such predicament, questioning himself – questioning his mentality. He was always so certain of himself; he had to be if he were to remain Prime Minister. But here he was, doubting the identity of the intruder, even as foolishly mistaking her for his queen.

After all, it wasn’t often that he stumbled upon the exact twin of Queen Victoria.

The older man regarded the maiden in strange garments with caution, his hand on the hilt of his dagger.  She folded her arms over her chest, grinning, showing no sign of fear or intimidation. Her laughter was soft and gentle, similar to a soft chime of a bell.

“I’m ‘fraid not,” the woman confessed, before looking thoughtful, “I wish I was though.”

Melbourne looked at her, his mouth slightly agape. Dear gods, she even sounded like the queen.

“This is preposterous! You are the exact mirror image her Majesty!” the Prime Minster exclaimed in disbelief.

“You won’t believe how often I get that.” she chuckled, shaking her head as if she was sharing a private joke with herself.

Indeed, the woman in front of him seemed physically undistinguishable to the queen: they bore the same hair colour, and had the same rounded cheeks. Both were quite small but definitely no midget. The girl even had that same smile and voice that made the Lord’s face redden and his heart race.

While they bore exact resemblance that was as far as the similarities went. If it was not for the way this woman spoke and her strange clothing, Melbourne would have found it difficult to tell them apart. No manners, this one; refusing to speak to him with formalities as he was accustomed to. She addressed him like if they were equals. The way she presented herself seemed like she was no more than a commoner; she had no inch of regality in her movements.  

“Who are your parents?” he demanded. Perhaps if he were to gain some knowledge of her family, it would explain why she appears to look like as if she is the lost twin sister of Alexandrina Victoria.

Her smile slowly faded from her fair skin. “Don’t got any.”

A sharp pang of regret coursed through him seeing that look on her face, only having witnessed it from Victoria herself not that many nights ago. He mentally reminded himself that this woman was not the queen.

“Well,” resumed Melbourne, “if you disown any family, you must have some sort of kinsfolk. Aunts or uncles?”

“Nope.”

“Where do your brothers or sisters live?”

She shifted her weight on one leg, visibly showing that she is losing impatience. “I don’t have any siblings.”

“And your home?” he asked almost desperately.

“I don’t have a home!” the brunette snapped, glowering at the older man.

Melbourne flinched at her reaction, taking a step back. He at least had the decency to look apologetic. 

“My apologies, Miss,” The Prime Minister bowed his head towards her, as if asking for forgiveness before returning her gaze. “But you must understand that I must ask such questions since you look exactly like Queen Victoria.”

The queen’s doppelganger huffed with indignation, refusing to look at the man before her. However, once she heard the pleading tone in his voice, she regarded him with sympathy.

“I can understand why you acted the way you did, and I’m sorry too. For snapping at you. It’s been a long day.”

He nodded. “I can only imagine, Miss.”

The petite woman released a breathed out a sigh of what Melbourne could only think is relief. “So, are we good?”

“I beg your pardon?” he asked, confusion clouding his grey eyes. “I’m afraid I don’t understand what you mean.”

She looked stricken for a moment before chuckling sheepishly, “Er, I mean, is everyone forgiven?”

“Only if you have forgiven me.” Melbourne answered evenly, smiling down at her.

“I have.”

Melbourne quirked his lips and leaned closer to the young woman in front of him. “Then, I believe everything is… _good_ , as you put it.”

She stared at him blankly, not saying anything to him in return. For a moment, Melbourne wondered if he said it wrong before he heard the woman giggle, her chocolate eyes dancing with mirth. That sound alone made his heart warm and he found himself smiling back. A habit he formed whenever the queen would beam up at him in happiness.

But this girl is not the queen.

The dark haired man quickly regained his composure, politely putting distance between himself the doppelganger.

“Where are you headed to, Miss?” he inquired, lacing his fingers behind his back.

“I’m looking for someone,” she replied,” A friend of mine. We got separated awhile back.”

“Perhaps, if I may be of some assistance, I can help you search for your friend?” he offered.

She looked at him skeptically, her eyes narrowing. “Why you being nice all of a sudden?”

“Well…” he gulped, his eyes looking everywhere but at her. He couldn’t tell her that he wanted to help her because he wanted to. He couldn’t tell her he felt obliged to help her because she bore the face of the woman he can never have. Rather, he told a lie.

“Think of it as an apology for my actions and behaviour from earlier.” Melbourne finally said.

She regarded him coolly, contemplating his offer. She quirked her head and leaned forward, as if she was inspecting him. The Prime Minister tried not to flinch again under her scrutiny, unwilling to admit that he finds her intimidating yet charming at the same time. Perhaps she does an inch of regality in her bones.

Satisfied, she nodded and stepped beck. He looked down at her and raised an eyebrow. “I believe you are pleased with whatever you were looking for?”

“Yeah,” she smiled. “I can trust you.”

“How can you already trust me when you do not know who I am?”

“Are you gonna hurt me?”

“No, but –”

“Will you let others hurt me?”

“Gods no, Miss, -”

She raised a hand up to protest him from arguing any further. “Then I can trust you.”

“How?” he asked, truly bewildered.

“I can already tell you’re loyal to the queen, are you not? Actually, don’t answer that – it’s treason, I think.” She said, before shaking her head. “Point is, I look like the queen, right? Then, I’m going to use that to my advantage by using your subconscious loyalty. You won’t harm someone that looks like her.”

He stood in disbelief, unable to find any fault in her absurd logic. Cunning woman, this one. Melbourne couldn’t help but think how much more intelligent this girl is than most the idiotic men in his party. He couldn’t help but smile. This woman is going to be quite the hellion, he knows it.

“No, I won’t, Miss.”

The brunette stuck her hand out for him to shake. “It’s settled then, um,” she trailed off, her eyes looking at him in expectation.

The older man took her hand in his own and knelt down, kissing the back of it. He heard her squeal and looked up, seeing her quite flushed.

“Lord William Melbourne, Prime Minister to the Queen of England.”

Her brown eyes widened almost impossibly, her mouth slightly ajar.

“You’re…” She stood in shock, unable to believe it.

“Is everything alright, Miss?”

She quickly recovered, snapping her mouth shut. “Um, yes, Lord M. Can I call you that? Lord M?” she she rambled, embarrassed.

It was Melbourne’s turn for his eyes to widen. No one but his queen was permitted to call him that. After all, she was the one who gifted him with such intimate use of his came. But staring down at the face that could be easily mistake for the Queen Victoria, he found himself warming up to the idea.

“Only if you allow me the pleasure of knowing yours, Miss.”  

She paused for a brief moment before looking smug and answered, “I’m The Doctor.” With the swing of her head, she flicked her hazel hair over her shoulder, raising her eyebrows and jutting her chin cheekily, “But you can call me Clara. _Clara Oswald_.”

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lord Melbourne is left heartbroken after forcing himself to tell the Queen he does not love her. But it will soon change after encountering a strange figure.
> 
> Set in 01x03 Brocket Hall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're reading this, then I thank you for enjoying it enough to click onto the next chapter! I'm planning to update weekly or bi weekly, depending on my workload from University. Just keep an eye out!

Lord Melbourne leant against the marbled statue, his tired, hooded eyes, matching the dark clouds slowly drifting above Brocket Hall. He could hear the soft rustle of the autumn leaves wandering gently from the cool breeze, reminding him that he was once again, alone. Gone was the laughter and smiles that once filled the warm air.

His gaze drifted to the spot where Queen Victoria once had stood mere hours ago, memories of earlier events replaying in his mind.

_You’re the only companion I could ever desire.”_

Her honeyed voice rang loud in his head, her confession repeating itself like a mantra. How beautiful she appeared before him; her eyes bright as the morning sky, her smile radiant as the burning sun itself. Lord Melbourne did not miss the mischievous twinkle in her blue orbs when she informed that she sought him out without telling anyone of her whereabouts. He couldn’t help but smile at how stubborn the young woman is.

_“I will never leave you.”_

Oh, how desperate Lord Melbourne wished for that to be true. He wanted nothing more than to tell her that he, too, loves her. That when she first confessed to him on the night of her Coronation Ball, he also desired to dance with her – most preferably in his chambers. But she was just a newfound woman who was barely out of her girlhood while he was already a widowed man.

However, this woman already won his love without much effort. He worshiped her very being, convinced that his queen was the only light that would shine in his darkness. But he knows that she will have to marry and it would not be to him. She already broke her promise without realizing it.

_“I know when you will give your heart, it will be without reservations. However, you cannot give it to me.”_

A bitter laugh that he recognized as coming from his own throat echoed in the quiet air. Of course, he had to be a respectable man, choosing duty before honour and love. He was lost her to her now.

He felt the wave of regret at the way she flinched at his cruel words. Somehow, the older man could recall every instance he made the queen flinch – when he first rejected her at the Coronation, when he resigned his position as Prime Minister, when he broke her heart…

How many times could he hurt her in one life?

Even if Melbourne was able to love her in the way they both desired, they could never be. He was her Prime Minister, and her, his queen. Already, their current relationship was greatly frowned upon by many. He had no choice but to break her heart, showing that he does not feel the same.

Lord Melbourne loved her enough to protect her reputation as the Queen of England by leaving her. And having done so, he realized that he was in peril for never possessing her love again. It was a bittersweet twist of fate that his love for Victoria was the reason why she could never be with him.

She will confide in her future husband, love him; no longer have any use for her Prime Minister.

He tortured himself by reliving her confession in his head, the way she laid her emotions bare to him, exposing her love – a love he hadn’t returned. A love he could not return.

He closed his eyes, weariness weighing heavily on his shoulder. Even he could not find solace in the songs of the rooks, his heart too heavy with unrequited love.

Caught in his own self-reprimand, he failed to notice a figure approaching him.

“Excuse me,” a voice called out, the leaves crunching loudly under their footsteps, “Is anyone there?”

Lord Melbourne snapped his eyes open and hastily stood up, quickly fixing his attire with hopes that he at least looks presentable. He caught sight of a teenage girl, no older than Victoria, wearing strange clothing walking towards him in long strides. Her clothes consisted of all black and alarming form fitting, showing off her ample curves in an unladylike way. Her grey eyes sharp, and her stride confident. She is no ordinary lady and definitely not of this land. 

He cleared his throat and plastered on a smile. “Ah, yes. How may I be of service?

“If you don’t mind, can you tell me where I am? And what year?” she asked, slightly tilting her head. The older man blinked, almost flinching. The girl did not seem as if she was a foreigner – her tongue having the same accent as his own. It was the way she spoke. It was highly informal of her, as if she was ignorant.

“I find it highly strange that you do not know where you are, Miss.” Melbourne stated, his voice slightly skeptical while maintaining a smile.

The raven haired girl merely shrugged. “I got lost.”

He regarded her for a several of seconds with a baffled expression before answering, “Brocket Hall. Eighteen thirty-eight.”

“I see. London – Victorian era,” the teenaged girl murmured under her breath, looking thoughtful.

“I beg your pardon?”

She shook her head. “It’s nothing.”

What an odd girl, indeed. Not only her responses were brusque, she addressed him without any formalities. It is obvious that she is well-educated by the way she presented herself; head held high, her walk cocky – definitely not a common street dweller. Lord Melbourne stared at the teenaged girl, his olive eyes raking her slender form.

“Are you from here?”

“Not exactly.”

“Then, may I ask what your business here is?”

The girl cocked her head and raised a questioning eyebrow. “You sure ask a lot of questions.”

Lord Melbourne looked slightly affronted. “Forgive me, but if a strange woman wearing strange garments with a peculiar way of speaking approaches you, do you not think I will not question her?”

She was quiet for a moment, crossing her arms across her chest before smirking and jutting her chin towards the older man. “Touché.”  

“Sorry?”

“It’s French,” she shook her head. “Don’t really know the meaning of it, actually.”

He stared at the young girl incredulously. “Quite the odd one you are, I must say.”

Awkward silence filled the air, both sizing one another.

“You asked earlier what my business is here,” she started, uncrossing her arms. “I’m looking for someone – my companion. We got separated earlier.”

The action did not go unnoticed. _It seems she trusts me._ The young girl truly seemed worried for her companion; her eyes clouding, lost in thought, most likely thinking about him. Lord Melbourne nodded. He knows that women cannot be away from their men for long, dependent on them. Perhaps, he could help her. 

“How about I escort you to the nearest town? It is most likely that your… erm – companion, will be there. He will be most glad to see you again.”

“ _She_ ,” she corrected, her eyes twinkling with mirth. “My companion is a woman.”

The teenager enjoyed seeing the older man lose his composure, his eyes widening with shock. He tried spluttering out a response until he heard laughter coming from her. Lord Melbourne looked at her face, slightly offended at her reaction until he realized that she was laughing at him in jest.  

“Oh, quite the tease, are you, Miss?” Lord Melbourne asked, his lips twitching into a smile.

She didn’t answer him. She merely laughed louder. “Blimey! You should’ve seen the look on your face.”

“I believe losing my patience is hardly worth a jest. Keep that in mind.”

“Are all people in this time this dense to humour?”

“I find nothing humourous about this situation.” Lord Melbourne stated. As opposed to what he just said, he was still smiling.

For a short moment, the Prime Minister forgot about the heartbreak he was suffering only a few hours ago.

“Ashildr,” the grey eyed girl said suddenly, her voice in a serious tone.

“What?” Lord Melbourne asked, his brow furrowing.

“My name,” she answered. “You can call me Ashildr, if you’d like.”

“What an odd name,” the older man murmured.

“Everything is odd about me with you!” Ashildr barked, offended. She turned to leave, shoving her hands in the pockets of her pants. Before she could even take a step back to where she came from, she felt a large hand on her forearm, pulling her back.

“I’m sorry, Miss,” Lord Melbourne apologized, his scruffy voice laced with regret. “That was rude of me.”

Ashildr shrugged his arm off, and crossed her arms over her once more, almost as if she was protecting herself. She turned her body to his but still refusing to meet his gaze. “What’s your name?”

The older man stood up straight. “Lord William Melbourne, Prime Min –”

She raised her hand to stop him from continuing. “I don’t need your whole resume. I’ll just call you Lord Melbourne then.”

He learned to stop questioning the young girl with the foreign terms, wondering if she was really speaking English. _She has a German name, English accent and uses French words in her speech._

“Will you really help me?”

He bowed his head towards the young girl. “I’m a man of my word, Miss Ashildr.”

Throughout her lifetime, Ashildr met millions if not billions of people. Some kind, some cold hearted. She had learned not to trust people so easily, not after losing so much. But as she looked upon the stranger, she could see his olive-grey eyes were old and tired. He lived through so much – so much pain he must’ve endured. Even now, standing before her, she could see that he still lived in pain. Something she could deeply relate to.

Ashildr remembered reading her diaries about living in this era, how it was a cruel time. Death of people everywhere. She had heard about Lord Melbourne and his undying loyalty towards the monarch and the British Constitution. He may have turned a blind eye to the poverty occurring but that does not make him necessarily a cruel man. He is willing to assist her in any way without payment and Ashildr rarely met men as kind as him.

She nodded her head, accepting his answer.

Lord Melbourne smiled and turned his head towards the auburn sky, already tinged with purple streaks.

“Perhaps, we could go to town in the morn, if that’s alright with you,” he suggested, pointing towards the setting sun. “You could rest at my estate for the night.”

“That would be nice, Lord Melbourne,” she answered, smiling. “Only if it’s no trouble.”

He beamed down at her, lacing his fingers in front of him and slightly bowing down. “It would be an honour, Miss Ashildr.”

The Prime Minister did not know what possessed him to offer this stranger his home let alone his assistance. Perhaps it was because she was a lost woman in need of help. It was only gentlemanly of him to give her aid. He could not leave her alone in good conscience.

Or maybe, it was her impressionable eyes that intrigued him. Her grey eyes held wisdom and pain that no girl her age should experience just yet. It seemed as if she lived a long life and saw the horrors of the world.

Just one look and Lord Melbourne felt like Ashildr could see him bare just by a glancing at him. It felt as if she could see all the grave errors he made in his life. The heartbreaks he suffered through: first, with his adulterous wife, the death of his son and then, casting away the Queen from his heart.

But the truth was – however odd it may sound – the Prime Minister saw himself in the dark haired girl. Her pain, happiness, cunningness, boldness; it all reminded of Lord Melbourne of himself when he was her age. And to shield her from becoming like the man he currently is, he's compelled to help her.

He only hopes he won’t regret it.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, yes, I'm introducing Ashildr! She was fun to write! I can't wait to write out more scenes with these two.
> 
> Comments and kudos are much appreciated. They make me write more ;)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yay, chapter three! Sorry for no update within weeks. Uni got me dead. But after mid-terms, I swear I'll focus more on continuing this.

_“I believe when you will give your heart, it will be without hesitation. But you cannot give it to me. I have no use for it, you see.”_

She is not _heartbroken_. Heartbroken is far too little of an emotion to describe the intense pain and agony the young queen felt stabbing in her bosom with every breath she drew. It’s as if her very soul was drained and the only thing remaining was nothing but a corpse. Never had Victoria felt a pain as great as this.  No, her heart is definitely not broken.

Rather, it felt as if it were _shattered_ into millions of tiny shards and was _grinded_ into dust that blew away in the wind, never to be whole again.

It was all a blur on her journey back from Brocket Hall. The pain was too fresh and her petite body felt numb. She distinctly remembered wrapping her arms across her chest as she miserably walked back to her lady’s carriage. There was no heat left in her.

When she returned to her estate, no one seemed to stop her and questioned her whereabouts. Servants and ladies walked passed Victoria, giving her sympathetic glances. The queen was thankful for their sympathy and even more grateful that no one stopped to question why she was crying. They all silently understood that whatever business she had back at Brocket Hall, it did not go as she desired.

_“You must keep it intact for someone else.”_

_I’m afraid it’s too late,_ Victoria thought bitterly, her hands fisting into the quilts and sheets. _My heart is beyond repair._

She let out a choked sob into her damp pillow, her chest constricting painfully.

“Ma’am?” a muffled voice calls from behind the wooden door.

“Leave me be!” she moaned. She was in no mood to talk to anyone.

“Ma’am,” the voice calls out again, a bit more desperately. “You must get ready for tonight’s party!”

The young brunette sat up, and harshly wiped away the offending tears, her long locks clinging onto her damp cheeks. She hopped off her bed and tore the door open only to see a stricken Lehzen. Her lady must’ve obviously heard what had transpired back at Brocket Hall. Otherwise, she wouldn’t look at Victoria with sympathy.

Before Lehzen could open her mouth, Victoria harshly voiced, “I am not attending Uncle Leopold’s stupid party!” She had the urge to slam the door in her face but that would be utterly disrespectful and childish thing to do. Instead, she left the door open for her and Victoria dove straight for her bed, shoving her face into her pillows once more.

The little queen briefly wonders if Lord Melbourne would be attendance as well and found herself slightly hoping he would. Realizing at what she just thought, Victoria let out a squeal of frustration, her pillow muffling the sounds.

Mere hours ago, her Prime Minister made it clear that he does not reciprocate her feelings. And here she lay, wishing he would show up even though just thinking of him sends pain straight to her chest. _I am absolutely pathetic._

“I do not think you are pathetic, Ma’am,” Lehzen says softly behind her. “Just a woman who had her heart broken.”

Startled, Victoria lifted her head to see the older woman regarding her with soft, kind eyes. As if she understood what she was feeling.

“Lehzen…” Victoria called out brokenly before breaking down into tears. The young woman was immediately embraced by her lady, rocking her softly while hushing her.

“H-he does not love me,” she snivelled, clinging tightly to her. “He said he has no use for my love.”

“No man in their right mind would ever cast you away, Ma’am,” Lehzen soothed, stroking her queen’s hair, “Not unless they were told to.”

She was not blind nor stupid, as most people believed. Lehzen had seen how much he adored the little queen. Victoria relied on him intellectually along with emotionally and he had been just that. She had seen the look of jealously on his usually kind face when the Russian prince began to touch their queen inappropriate. She’d seen people teased William merciless about it, encouraging him to jokingly steal her away from him. And he surprised many by doing just that.

If Lehzen did not know any better, she would say he is dangerously besotted with his little queen.

The governess had heard the horrid rumours about his personal life. After her wife and son left him, most people, including himself, believed that he would cease to be happy. But now, he truly lives for her and the British constitution. He smiles more often just being in her presence. So when the little queen told her that he does not love her, she knew that to be a complete lie.

The older woman had her suspicions that the King of Belgium had something to do with this, that cunning, old man. He was always bitter that his wife died and was deprived of the title of ruling England. He never once treated his niece with respect, always trying to conform Victoria’s life in a way he sees fit. It was obvious that his advice was not welcome by the way her queen would treat him with hostility. Lehzen doesn’t blame her.

King Leopold has openly expressed his desire for Victoria to marry his nephew, Prince Albert. Despite her protests, that is his sole goal for being in Buckingham palace. But anyone with eyes could see that Victoria, too, is deeply besotted with her Lord M. But their relationship was highly disapproved from the start. So it was no surprise to Lehzen that the queen’s uncle had a key role in her heartbreak.

 _What a despicable man, hurting his own family member like this,_ she thought bitterly while trying to calm down the distraught queen. _He ought to be put in the tower if I had a say._

“Lehzen…” Victoria whispered brokenly, trying to get the attention of the older woman.

“Yes?”

“…Thank you.” She burrowed her face deep into her chest.

She kissed the crown of her head. “I’ll always be here for you, Ma’am. Just say the word, and I’ll be here .”

She felt the young girl nod her head while Lehzen continued holding her for a little while longer. When she believed that Victoria has calmed down, she gently shook her.

“Ma’am, I think it is best if we get you ready for tonight’s party.” She smiled apologetically.

“Must I go?” she answered, her voice bleary.

“It’s a party in your uncle’s name. I think it’s only customary that you attend.”

Victoria remained quiet for some time, Lehzen thinking that she had fallen asleep. She was startled to hear her finally say, “If Lord M is coming, I’m retiring early.”

The older woman laughed at the sound of finality in the young queen’s voice. It seems that she feels slightly better compared to before. “I would expect nothing less, Ma’am.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I know! No Clara yet! But next chapter is a different spin of the party. Comments and kudos make me write. ;)


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m so sorry for not updating in a while! First year university is killing me. But after finals, I promise to write more! Have a longer than usual chapter to make up for my absence.
> 
> DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN VICTORIA OR DOCTOR WHO  
> CLAIMER: I DO OWN ALL MY GRAMMATICAL MISTAKES.

“Welcome, Miss Ashildr, to my estate.”

Melbourne extended his arm forward, politely allowing her to enter his home first.

The young woman crossed the threshold, admiring the décor. The walls were layered with cobalt paint - the crown and base lathered in gold. They were adorned with various styles of paintings, mostly portraits of men; sconces and candle holders were placed in every nook and cranny, illuminating the room with a bright glow.

As she took in her surroundings, a sense of nostalgia welled up inside her. The manor reminded the immortal of a life she lived so long ago, back when she was reunited with the Doctor and found a purpose once more.

“I take it the place is to your liking?” the Prime Minister questions, snapping the raven haired girl out of her thoughts.

“Huh? Oh, yes,” she approves, smiling politely. “Quite the lovely home you have, Lord Melbourne.”

Melbourne nodded, pleased by her response. While he barely resided in his own home, only in the evenings to rest, it was satisfying nonetheless to receive compliments.

He called for one of his servants to attend to Ashildr’s needs during her stay. “Prepare the guest room and draw a warm bath for our guest,” Melbourne kindly instructed to the middle-aged woman.

She respectfully bowed her head. “Certainly, my lord.”

“That is all,” he dismissed with a wave of his hand. The older woman lowered her head once more and retreated upstairs, leaving the pair alone.

Melbourne looked down at Ashildr and opened his mouth before he was cut off by a solemn looking gentleman.

“Lord Melbourne,” the old butler greeted, giving the Prime Minster a curt bow.

“Yes?” he answers curtly, a twinge of annoyance evident in his voice for being interrupted.

The older man drew forward a silver platter and lowered his gaze. On it laid a sealed letter with a crimson wax seal. “A letter from Buckingham Palace, sir.”

Melbourne retrieved the cream-coloured envelope and looked down at the sender, his face momentarily falling. Ashildr recognized that look. She’d seen it on herself one too many times - the look of heartbrokenness.

Instead of opening the contents, Melbourne placed the small letter into the pocket of his coat.

Seeing the look of curiosity on the teenager’s face, he offered her a small smile. “Where are my manners? Ashildr, do you wish for tea or coffee?”

Taken aback by the change of his moods, she hesitated for a moment before answering, “Coffee, if you don’t mind.”

Melbourne nodded and ordered his butler to send a tray up to Ashildr’s quarters and his own. The older man bowed and hastily retreated to the kitchens. Turning his attention back on the girl, he beckoned Ashildr to follow him as he led her to her temporary living arrangements.

“Are you fond of coffee?” Melbourne asks lightly, trying to form a conversation.

“Not necessarily,” she answers before adding, “Though, I do find it essential. Need it to get through the day of dealing with stupid people.”

She hears the Prime Minister slightly chuckle beside her as they made their way up the carpeted staircase.

“I believe we are more alike than I thought, Miss Ashildr,” Melbourne commented lightly, his olive eyes crinkling down at her.

She smiles back in return, looking at the hallway before her. “I don’t doubt that, Lord Melbourne.”

Melbourne furrows his brow at her response. Ordinarily, he would take that comment more than in a friendly manner, were it anyone else. But the forlorn tone in the young woman’s voice almost made him stop in his stride. Despite the smile she wore on her face, her voice held wisdom and sadness that no girl her age should have.

Mentally shaking his head, he stops in front of a wooden door.

“This is only temporary, Miss Ashildr,” Melbourne states, ignoring the pointed looked the raven haired shot at him, “Perhaps after a day or two, I will take you to the main town to help you look for your companion.”

“Thank you, your Lordship,” Ashildr teases, giving him a mock curtsey. His lips quirk up in a small smirk at her witty behaviour.

“If you require any assistance, call for one of the maids, and they will attend to you.”

“I’m sure I’ll manage.”

With a slight nod, Melbourne disappeared down the hallway, leaving the immortal to herself.

Ashildr slumped against the wooden door, the day’s exhaustion finally catching up. She should count her blessings that a man such as Lord Melbourne was willing to help her out of the goodness of himself. Were it anyone else, the immortal was sure that she would be in trouble being in a different time period.

Her mind wandered towards her companion, concern welling inside her.

After their TARDIS’s navigation system went haywire after an impromptu voyage throughout time and space, the machine was less than pleased at the girls’ treatment towards it – or rather, the lack of it. After crash landing in the Victorian era, the moment Ashildr went out, the familiar groan and wheezing reached her ears, signaling the time traveling machine was leaving her behind.

The immortal was beyond pissed but there’s nothing she can do about it. Knowing the Impossible Girl, Clara will find a way to get back to her.

With a sigh, Ashildr twisted the door knob and walked into the room, only to be greeted by the middle-aged woman she had met earlier.

“Miss, I am afraid your room isn’t finished being prepared yet,” she said apologetically, signaling to the disarray of the bedsheets.

“It’s alright. There’s no rush.”

She smiled gratefully. “I already drew up a bath for you, if you wish to bathe now. I should be done by the time you finish, Miss.”

“Thanks, um -” she trailed, realizing that she doesn’t know the name of one of Lord Melbourne’s servants.

“Name’s Beatrice, Miss,” she answers Ashildr’s unspoken question, giving her a slight bow.

“Thank you, Beatrice. I’ll go do that.” The raven haired made her way to the washroom but not before looking back and said, “Keep up the good work.”

Beatrice beamed up at Ashildr, giving her a deep bow. “Will do, Miss! Thank you, Miss!”

With the soft click of the door behind her, Ashildr was hit by the humid hair of the steam emanating from the hot bath. Quickly shedding off her clothes, a groan of pleasure ruptured for the young woman’s throat as she settled into the humid waters. For now, she’ll forget her worries.

X

Lord Melbourne handed an envelope to his butler. “Send this to Lady Portman, with haste.”

It is without a doubt in his mind that Emma already knows what transpired between him and his queen back at Brocket Hall. She _always_ knows, that woman, that it sometimes frightens Melbourne himself. But it is because he’s scared of her that he respects and admires his best friend, if not closest. And right now, he needs his best friend.

Perhaps, after confiding with Emma, she would be able to make things clear as to where he now stands with Victoria. Surely, after today’s events, the queen would want nothing to do with him.

And that worries him.

He may have broken her heart along with his own, but that does not mean he still loves her – that he’s still devoted to her as a man and her Prime Minister. He just can’t be with her the way his queen desires.

Melbourne let out a pained sigh as he covered his face with his large, calloused hands.

“William? William!” a voice shrills, echoing throughout the house. Melbourne snapped his head up from his hands, hearing the hurried footsteps approaching closer to his study.

Emma threw the door opened haphazardly, her face laden with worry. Once she spotted him sitting in front of his desk, her features relaxed a bit.

She approached him. “William!”

He stood up. “Emma, I –”

Before he could get another word out, he saw her raise her hand as if to strike him and he closed his eyes, bracing for impact. After all, he deserved to be hit.

Instead, a cool hand cupped his left cheek, the thumb stroking it soothingly. His eyes flew opened, olive eyes staring down at her questioningly.

“Emma?”

“Are you okay?” she asks, her voice soft. “I got your letter.”

Noticing the door was still open, he brushed her hand away as he made his way to the end of the room to shut it close. He doesn’t need the servants to overhear this conversation and spread any more unnecessary rumours. “I’m fine, Emma.”

“You were always a bad liar, William,” she smiles, her voice laced with slight amusement.

He ignored her statement as he gestured to one of the leather cushioned chairs. “Please, make yourself at home.”

She sat down on his desk chair instead. “Are you really fine?”

A sad smile graced his rugged face. “If you really knew me, Emma, you wouldn’t ask.”

Tensed silence filled the room as he looked anywhere but her. If he looked at her, he would see her gazing at him pitifully.

“She is hurting too, William. More so than you, I believe.” When Melbourne did not say anything, Emma continued. “I do not know the details of the events, but I can guess and it was not a happy one judging by how hard she cried on my shoulder.”

He raised his head to look at her. “You were there?”

She shook her head. “I was waiting for her Majesty by the carriage with Hedges. She didn’t say anything when she returned – not that she needed to. Her silence was more than enough. Along with the brandy she consumed.”

She stood up from her seat and slowly walked over towards Melbourne. “Why did you do it, William? Why deny yourself the happiness you deserve?”

He responded gruffly, “I do not love her.”

“I will say this once more, William; you will always will be a bad liar. Especially around me.”

Emma grasped his elbow, forcing him to look at her.

“Do you not wish to be happy?” she whispered softly.

He pulled his arm away from her hold. “It is not the matter of what _I_ want, Emma. I am simply doing what is best for the queen. I must set her sights on someone more suitable than I.”

Emma Portman felt irritation welling up inside her breast. “And pray tell, William, who exactly is more suitable for my Lady than her precious _Lord M_? Sir Conroy? Lord Peel? How about those German rats she calls cousins?” When his eyes were fully on her, she continued. “You’d rather _love_ Caro than the queen? That adulterous _whore_ that left you?”

Without a warning, Melbourne firmly grasped Emma’s upper arm and tugged her close. As she looked up at her best friend, she could see his olive eyes blazing, almost believing that they were blue.

“Watch your tongue, _Lady Portman_. You have no right to insult the memory of late _wife_ nor do you have the right to insult the Queen’s cousins. It is my duty to report treason.”

Emma looked up at him defiantly, her eyes equally as intense. “You wouldn’t _dare, Viscount William Melbourne_.”

They stared at each other for what seemed to be a minute or so, anger overwhelming their senses.

While they were indeed angry at each other, the truth being is that they were angrier at themselves. Emma was unable to provide any additional comfort to her lady without overstepping any boundaries. As for Melbourne, he was angry at himself for realizing that he was the cause of bring such grief to the one he loved.

The Prime Minister was the first to make amends.

“I… What I said earlier, I did not mean them. My deepest apologies, Emma.” To his words, he did look contrite at his horrid behaviour towards his best friend. But she did not blame him. How could she when he is also in pain?

She boldly took his hand into her own. “I know, William. And I forgive you.”

Melbourne softly laughs, his eyes softening. “What will I do without you, my dear?”

“I am your closest friend if not your _only_ friend. It frightens me to even think what will happen to you if I’m no longer by your side,” she giggles jokingly, “but I am glad that I was able to make you smile, even if it is for a small moment.”

He tightens his grip on her hand ever so slightly before releasing it. Emma finds herself missing the warmth, but quickly covers her longing by saying, “I also brought the items you requested. Why on earth would you need some of my old clothing?”

Melbourne widens his eyes, suddenly remembering his guest.

“I need them for my guest.”

She narrows her eyes skeptically. “A _guest_?”

Hearing the accusation in her voice, the older man was quick to elaborate. “I did not take on a mistress, if that is your concern, Emma.”

“Then, who is it?”

“A young girl, roughly the same age as the queen. I found her wandering around Brocket Hall and decided to give her a place to rest before escorting her to town to find her companion,” he explains.

“Does she have a name?”

He hesitates before answering, “She calls herself Ashildr.”

“Are you lying? You hesitated,” she teases.

He raises his brow before smiling broadly. “Does it appear I’m lying? I thought you claimed that you know whether I’m lying or not.”

She huffs before admitting, “No, you’re not lying.” She walked around the room before continuing, “Her name is Ashildr. That is not an English name.”

He nodded. “I agree. At first, I thought her to be German or American. However, she bears the same accent as us. So, it is most likely she was raised in this country.”

“That explains who she is, but why is she in need of my clothes? Is she poor?”

Melbourne winces, recalling her clothes of when they first met. Tight clad jacket and trousers that were very form fitting. It was very unlady-like but somehow, it suited the raven-haired. “Her garments are not of our culture. They are too…provocative for everyday wear.”

Emma looked at her friend in disbelief. “If she is not your Mistress, is a whore or a courtesan of sorts?”

“Instead of asking me all these questions, why don’t you meet her yourself? She is currently residing in one of the guest rooms in the west hall,” he offers exaggeratedly.

Lady Portman picks up a bag by the door that Melbourne failed to notice.

“Perhaps I will,” she replied cheekily. Before she made her exit, she turned around and said, “William, I do hope you’ll come to the ball tomorrow. Make amends with her Majesty.”

In all honesty, the Prime Minister had forgotten all about the Duchess of Richmond’s ball. He has no desire nor the inclination to.

“We will see, Emma. I promised to help Ashildr.”

“She is not going anywhere. But the queen will not wait to forgive you.”

With that, Emma left the room, leaving Melbourne alone once more.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos and comments are much appreciated! In fact, they are my motivation.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, it's been awhile since my last update! I know I said I'd write more often and I have! Just not for this fic because the lack of motivation. I know there are times in my previous chapters where I was historically incorrect and I really appreciate people pointing it out to me. 
> 
> As usual, my works are un-betaed, and I apologize for the amount of grammatical mistakes made. 
> 
> That being said, I hope you guys enjoy this chapter!

If Ashildr was surprised to see a strange, middle-aged woman sitting on her bed whilst she was naked, still wet from her bath, she didn’t voice it. Rather, she raised a questioning eyebrow at the intruder.

In any other circumstances, Emma would’ve had the decency to advert her eyes the moment her gaze landed someone who was nude, especially if one just finished bathing. But as soon as she saw the raven haired girl, she couldn’t help but stare. More precisely, stare at the dark markings swirling from her chest to her slender neck.

Ashildr’s voice cut through her thoughts. “May I help you?”

Only then did Emma realize her discourtesy and flushed. She quickly stood up and slightly inclined her head, giving her a small bow.

“I do apologize for the intrusion. I am Emma Portman. Lord Melbourne told me you would be residing here.”

Ashildr nodded. “Figured as much but do you actually need anything from me?”

Emma regarded the young lady with slight curiosity. Most people would seem discomfited at being naked around a stranger, yet the dark haired woman didn’t seem to be bothered or ashamed.

“Perhaps we could talk more when you are, erm–” Emma coughed into her hand in slight embarrassment, making a gesture towards Ashildr’s nudeness. “Dressed in a more _suitable_ matter.”

Finally, she excused herself in search of her clothes. Ashildr remembered she placed it on a shelf but it was nowhere to be found. It didn’t help that a full body cotton towel was yet to be made. She returned to see Emma looking everywhere but at her. Well, she was still naked so she doesn’t blame her.

“I couldn’t find anything to dry myself on and my clothes seem to have disappeared.”

“I believe the maids are washing it on your behalf.”

The immortal internally winced. Her leather jacket was made in the late nineteen-sixties and was pretty costly too. No doubt there would be damages made on it since she was sure a maid of this era did not have the understanding on how to properly wash it.    

Emma handed her a pile of neatly folded dresses. When Ashildr looked at it curiously, she said with a smile, “William informed me that you might be needing a set of new clothes. These are dresses I no longer need.”

“Then I am indebted to you, Lady Portman.” The raven haired gratefully accepted it although, if only it were socially acceptable, she would much rather be wearing breeches and shirts. So many unnecessary strings and such tight corsets. It was also such restriction on movement, just in case she needed to run.

“Please, just Emma,” she offered kindly. Ashildr gave the woman with a smile in affirmation before walking away to get some privacy.

It turned out to be easier putting on the dresses than she previously recalled, save for the tedious layers – she remembered how much she hated them. It was all muscle memory to Ashildr despite not being able to fully remember her life in this era.

If only the TARDIS was currently at her disposal and not with Clara, she could consult her diaries to see how to properly behave and relearn the social norms and etiquette. Then again, if Ashildr had the TARDIS, she wouldn’t be stuck here in this era at all.

With a heavy sigh, Ashildr styled her hair _a l’anglaise_ with cascades of ringlets on either side of her long face – a common and loved hairstyle among women in this era. She didn’t need to consult her journals to remember how much she disliked it. She preferred to keep her hair down but that wasn’t an option if she wanted to blend in. She was sure that the way she spoke and presented herself had people already questioning her origins.

Ashildr stared into the mirror, her tattoo from the Shade peeking out from her light blue dress. She instinctively reached a hand and curled it around her throat, trying to cover it.

Long ago, as Mayor, she used to be proud bearing it; a mark that showed she cared for her citizens and protected them. But now, for her, it’s nothing but a horrible reminder for what she had done to both Clara and the Doctor, the two very people who saved her life all those centuries ago.

Ashildr jolted in surprise when Emma’s soft voice called out to her.

“Lady Ashildr? Is everything alright? Do you require any assistance?” Emma asks kindly through the door.

She took in a breath before answering, “No, I will be out in a moment.”

Regaining her composure, she assessed herself in the mirror, nodding to herself when she deemed herself decent. She opened the wooden door to see Emma waiting for her expectantly. When she noticed Ashildr, she smiled at how her old dress suited her just fine but her grey eyes couldn’t help but be drawn back to her mark on her throat.

Ashildr gently cleared her throat.

“Thank you, Emma. The dress is quite lovely.”  

She inclined her head once more. “I am glad it is to your liking, Lady Ashildr.”

“If I am to call you by your given name, I insist you do the same.”

“As you wish, Ashildr.”

Satisfied that she dropped the formality, Ashildr made her way to her bed and sat down, beckoning Emma to join her.

“So,” Ashildr began, “How can I help you?”

Emma gave her a puzzled look. “Help me?”

“There must be a reason why you sought a complete stranger out, even coming to her chambers unannounced.”

“I apologize once more, Ashildr. Curiosity seemed to have taken control over me once William mentioned you in a letter, urgently requesting my presence,” Emma answered truthfully. “It is rare nowadays that I get one from him ever since he became Prime Minister to Queen Victoria.”

Emma smiled sadly, shaking her head before continuing.

“I think it was mostly anger and curiosity that caused my irrational behaviour. I am usually not this impolite.”

Ashildr furrowed her brow in confusion. “Why would you be angry at me? I haven’t done anything.”

The older woman stared at her before asking, “Tell me; how privy are you to gossiping about her Majesty?”  

“I don’t really care much about the royalty.”

“Then, whatever I say to you, will you swear to keep it between us?”

Ashildr only shrugged. “I don’t really have anyone else to tell it to anyways.”

Emma inched closer to her, her grey eyes surveilling the room for anyone that could be potentially listening. Satisfied that it was only the two of them, she recalled today’s events that transpired between Lord M and his liege, Queen Victoria. Emma wasn’t there to witness it but seeing both her friends heartbroken was enough.

While Ashildr hadn’t known him for long – just making his acquaintance today – the dark haired woman felt a pang of sadness for the Prime Minister. She also knows another old man who loved a certain brunette but refused to admit it. He ended up suffering billions of years just for her, but she knows Lord Melbourne wouldn’t do that. He may be a Lord, but he isn’t a Time Lord.

But what she doesn’t understand is as to why Emma would be upset at her, and she voiced this to her.

“It is because I thought he had taken on a mistress, or at least, paid someone at a brothel,” Emma answered frankly. “And when he mentioned you in the letter, or even after him explaining your presence to me in person, I still believed you were a person he had paid to satisfy him physically.”

“Do you still think that?” Ashildr asked.

Emma shook her head. “No. I truly believe that he is assisting you on finding your friend.”

She let out a small chuckle. William was never one to abandon a woman in need. Even now, through all the gossip on how he’s a _harzenrauber_ – a stealer of hearts – it’s only his kind heart that labelled him so. Even taking back his wife who did nothing but shame him constantly, he only took her back because he cared for her.

“I’m glad,” said Ashildr, glad that she has not made an enemy yet.

“I also believe that you are not from here,” Emma stated. “William told me he found you in foreign clothing; clothes that are similar to men. The way you speak is similar yet different as well. And that mark on your neck, I have never seen anything like it.”

Ashildr chose her next words carefully. “It’s true that I’m not from around here. My companion and I, we’re from a different place and we’re travelling together. Unfortunately, we got separated and our…horse took off with her still in the carriage.”

Well, it wasn’t a complete lie. She and Clara were from the twenty-first century and being immortals and all, they made the decision to travel together. At first, they agreed that by doing so, they’re giving the middle finger to the Gallifreyans, proving that they can’t control and use them for their personal agendas anymore.

So, they travelled anywhere in space and time. Unfortunately, due to their TARDIS being “newborn” and a sentient being, it did not take it kindly to being mistreated by going from place to place without being properly recharged. People would think it would be Clara abusing the control panel, but it was the Ashildr it kicked off the moment she exited, dematerializing and leaving her in the damn Victorian era.

“As for this mark,” Again, Ashildr gently curled her hand around her throat, a look of pain evident on her face, “I’d rather not talk about it.”

Emma nodded in understanding, but she couldn’t help but ask, “Did it hurt when you got it?”

“Physically, no. But it hurts me every time I look at it.”   

She didn’t know what the raven haired meant by that but she believed it was not her place to push. After all, it was only mere moments ago when she had met her.

“Well, I believe I have overstayed my welcome.” Emma stood up and made her way to the door but not before saying sincerely, “I do hope you find your friend, Ashildr.”

“As do I, Emma.”

Gently nodding at each other, Emma gently closed the door. Once finally alone, Ashildr let out a heavy sighed and plopped on the bed, her arms spread out.   

“Clara, where are you?”

-

It was late in the evening when Lord Melbourne made the decision to go out and clear his mind. He had not forgotten about his guest but in his current state, he prefers not to converse with anyone. Instead, he had ordered his servants to attend to her needs should she require anything.

After his conversation with Lady Portman, he should feel some sort of relief that the queen is equally miserable as he is. But it only brought him misery knowing that he is the sole cause of her grief. A woman of her status plus her fragile age cannot afford to have broken heart.

Had he reciprocated her feelings, would have things gone about differently? He knows deep in his heart that even if he accepted her love, the outcome would be the same. She would be treated with scorn from the Duchess and Sir Conroy along with countless others for simply being with a man of his age and history. Lord Melbourne knows this yet he could not help but feel regret for casting Victoria away.  

Unbeknownst to the Prime Minister, Ashildr regarded the depressed man with sympathy from behind a tree. She came out to explore, to make a mental map of her surroundings. She had expected him to be drinking himself to death in his private study, brooding over her like any other guy would; not outside, quietly berating himself like a lovelorn fool.

A part of her wanted to leave him be to his misery and avoid any sort of attachment, but she couldn’t help but see the resemblance of Lord Melbourne to the Doctor – the same pained expression when they lost someone they loved.

 _Just leave, damn it,_ Ashildr thought. _You’ll be gone by morning anyways._

But the better part of her won over, and she made her way towards him. Making sure she maintained a respectable amount of distance, she called out to him, “Are you alright?”

Lord Melbourne turned around, and his olive eyes now rimmed red with unshed tears, widened in surprise.

“Miss Ashildr, I did not expect you to be roaming the grounds at this hour.”

“Same could be said to you, Lord Melbourne,” she countered, quirking her lips into a small smile. He chuckled dryly at her witty response.

“I will retire in a moment,” he said before redirecting his attention to the starless dusk. “I just wanted to feel the evening wind.”

“Mind if I joined you?” It was sort of moot point asking at this point in Ashildr’s opinion but it still didn’t hurt to ask.

“Not at all.”

The pair stood together in silence, listening to the gentle sounds of insects cricketing in the distance and leaves rustling from the light push of the evening breeze. Any other night and company, Ashildr would say this was a peaceful evening. But she was sure her current company would say otherwise.

“Emma told me what happened between you and the queen.” It was only then did Emma’s words of her promising not to tell anyone rang in her head. But she’ll be gone by tomorrow, so there’s no harm indulging herself in this.

He huffed, mildly annoyed. “Did she now? Somehow, that does not surprise me.”

“It’s all in good faith,” Ashildr reassured. “Do you want to talk about it?”

He narrowed his eyes skeptically at her. “Why would I want to talk about my relationship with her Majesty to a complete stranger such as yourself?”

The dark haired woman only shrugged. “If you don’t want to talk about it, then let me tell you a story.”

He looked at her in bewilderment. “I beg your pardon?”

She only smiled up at him as she began her story. “I knew a great man. A man whom I believed that could do anything he wanted. And long ago, he and his companion saved my life. For a while, I was thankful because I got to be with my family again.

“But as each day passed by, I resented him for not taking me with him. The world gotten crueler and I no longer wanted to be part of it. I resorted to doing crimes; petty thefts and such for sport, hoping for us to cross paths again.”

Lord Melbourne cut in. “Could you have not written a letter to him? Surely there was an easier way to contact him than doing crimes.”

Ashildr only shook her head. “He was an impossible man to contact, always travelling place to place, never telling anyone his whereabouts. But I found him one day and I begged him to bring me with him.” She clenched her fists. “But of course, all he ever needed was his companion, Clara. His weakness.”

“Where are you going with this, exactly?” Melbourne asked, confused, but she only gave him a pointed glare.

“I knew how strong their friendship went since I never seen anything like it. He’d do anything for her. _Anything._ But what I failed to learn until it was too late was that he loved her. But that damn fool never told her.” Ashildr clenched her teeth, biting back tears. “Long story short, I had killed her.

The Myre girl didn’t need to look up at Lord Melbourne to see the utter horror etched on his face. She probably had the same reaction as he does when Ashildr learned that Clara stupidly took the Chrono-lock off Rigsy, and placed it on herself. She had billions of years to make peace for her actions but seeing the look of utter rage on the Doctor’s face will be forever seared onto her mind. That, she will never forget.

Lord Melbourne regarded the woman with disbelief. Someone as young as she is went through so much, even to the point of murdering someone.

“Miss Ashildr, I can’t –“

She raised a hand to stop him from continuing. “I know what you’re thinking. No, I didn’t kill her on purpose. She stupidly took a bullet that was meant for someone else.”

At the point, Lord Melbourne was utterly speechless. He had no words to say. How could he when he could see the frustration and pain reflected in her grey eyes? He watched her cover her neck with her hand, biting her bottom lip.

“The man from there on was no longer the same. He was not the kind man that saved my life all those years ago. All because I took away what mattered to him the most and the sad part was, she died without knowing he loved her like she dreamed of. Neither had that closure of knowing they were loved. He ended up suffering for a really long time.

“Point of the story, Lord Melbourne, let your loved ones know you love them.”

Heavy silence filled the air. He didn’t know what to make of Ashildr’s story. A part of him wishes to believe it to be true. No one could fake the amount of pain and regret that he witnessed on the girl’s face.

“It’s quite the dreary and depressing story, I know, and not that quite relatable,” Ashildr chuckled, hoping to lighten the mood, even by a margin, “but you should tell the queen your honest feelings rather than die with regret.”

“I…” Lord Melbourne started, still unsure what to say. “I understand, Miss Ashildr but I have a question to ask of you about this story you just told me.”

“Yes?”

“You speak as if you lived for a lifetime, perhaps more. But you are only a girl of eighteen, are you not?”

Ashildr grinned mischievously. “It’s only a story, Lord Melbourne. It’s up to you if you want to believe if it’s true or not.”   

It was cruel of her to say such a thing but she couldn’t exactly tell him the full truth either. How could she explain to him that no, she’s not eighteen but in fact, an immortal that _looks_ eighteen? And that Clara is alive and is her missing companion but she’s an immortal too? And the Doctor suffered four and a half billion years in his own personal Hell just for her?

Ashildr was certain he would deem her insane and have her sent to an asylum of sorts. She was startled when he burst out into a laugh.

“I admit it was quite the tale, Miss Ashildr,” Lord Melbourne admitted, smiling, “Perhaps you should be a storyteller.”

He berated himself for believing it was all true. But he will admit that he believes that there are parts of her story that held some depth of truth behind them.

“If it got the message across, perhaps I should,” she smiled back, her voice slightly teasing.

He nodded before looking solemn. “It did. But I’m afraid I don’t know how to undo the damage I’ve caused.”

She placed a hand on his shoulder and gave it a reassuring squeeze. “Sometimes, actions speak louder than words.”

He stared blankly at her hand and Ashildr quickly withdrew it. Was it not normal to reassure someone like this? Did she pass a boundary of some sorts?

“What do you propose I do?” he asks, his face genuinely uncertain.

She looked thoughtful for a moment. What did humans do when expressing remorse? “Well, from where I’m from, it’s customary to give flowers to person you’re apologizing to.”

“Is that so?” He didn’t sound convinced.

In all honesty, Ashildr’s not all that great when it came to relationships. She remembered writing in her journals how she stopped falling in love and having children in the late sixteen-hundreds or so because it was too painful knowing she will outlive them all. But this is the best advice she could give on a whim that seems to be socially acceptable.

“It’s the safest bet. Do you grow any flowers here?”

He jutted his chin to a nearby greenhouse. “I personally grow some white orchids over there.”

She sighed in relief. “That’s perfect.”

“Really?”

“Orchids are eastern grown flowers require a lot of attention, care and time for it to fully bloom and is also a symbolism of hidden love or something close to that.”

Lord Melbourne blinked once. And then twice before smiling, “You surprise me, Miss Ashildr. You are right.”

“Then, send her one next time you see her,” she suggested. “Do you know when will that be?”

“The Duchess of Richmond will be hosting a costume ball at Syon House. The queen will be in attendance.” His face wrinkled at the thought of dressing up. He wasn’t very fond of balls and parties since he was always seemed to be the core of gossip. But perhaps for his queen, as usual, he would make an exception.

“Do you have some sort of clue as to whom she would be dressing up as?”

“She has a fondness for the late Queen Elizabeth Tudor.”

Ashildr nodded in understanding. “The Virgin Queen. I take it you’re going as Earl of Leicester? They were devoted to each other if I’m not mistaken.”

Lord Melbourne regarded the young woman with pleasant surprise once more. “I have not thought of that, Miss Ashildr. Thank you.”

Ashildr smiled. “Of course. But what you’ll say when you see her will determine if she forgives you or not.”

The rest of the evening was spent strolling around the grounds in comfortable silence as opposed to the start of their conversations. They reached the steps of his house and bid each other a good night. But before she entered, Lord Melbourne called out to her.

“Miss Ashildr, may I ask why you are adamant on assisting me in repairing my relationship with Queen Victoria?”

She wanted to jokingly ask if he truly did not understand the story she told him earlier, but instead, she replied, “Because you’re helping me find my friend and giving me a place to stay, so I owe you that.”

Lord Melbourne seemed pleased by her response and left to retire to his chambers. But despite him being a stranger and a political figure that will help shape the world as she knows it, Ashildr couldn’t help but assist him with his relationship problems with the Queen of England. She just hopes she doesn’t alter the future too much.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos and comments inspire me!

**Author's Note:**

> Please let me know what you think! Comments and kudos are much appreciated.


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